


A Monsters Here

by MalecAcid



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Drabble, Gen, Heavy Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Idkkkkkk how to taggggg, POV Bellamy Blake, i just havent finished s3 yet so 😔😔, i mean this is fairly canon compliant bc everything is before s4 mfkxmd, no spoilers pls!!, this is my first 100 fic so be kind plssss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26708848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalecAcid/pseuds/MalecAcid
Summary: All these people. Dead. Because of him.ORBellamy has a lot of guilt and I think that that's important.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Octavia Blake
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	A Monsters Here

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!! 🥺🥺 so,,,, this is my first 100 fic and I hope you like it!! I haven't watched anything past halfway through season 3 but I'm working on it jdmskxk pls don't comment any spoilers 🥺🥺 
> 
> Also there is a lot of talk about death in this,,, that's what the whole fic is about jfjdjdj stay safe while reading 🥺🥺
> 
> And the title is from monster by dodie and I'm sad kfkskdmsk
> 
> I hope you likeeee 🥺🥺🥺

He was offered a chance. A chance to help his sister. A chance to _save_ his sister. 

Or die with her. 

He took it. 

He took the gun, and he shot at Jaha. 

His heart dropped. 

He found out that Jaha didn't die. His stomach dropped, but his heart lifted from the place it had dropped before. 

He talked to Charlotte, tried to help her. Tried to give her advice on how to fight her demons. Tried to give an eight year old the same advice he used for himself. 

Then Wells was dead. Dead, dead, dead. And he was hanging Murphy. And then Charlotte was confessing. Charlotte was confessing and- 

It was him. It was him, it was him, it was him. 

Then Charlotte was falling, falling off the edge of a cliff and he felt as if he was falling with her. 

He threw the radio in the river, heard it hit the rocks at the bottom. He felt the shove from Raven, felt Clarke's glare. But what he didn't feel was the pressing weight, the pressing anxiety of the idea of Jaha coming down here and arresting him, taking him away from the life he created. 

Then he learned that the radio would have saved three hundred people. 

The bodies fell from the ark while he watched that night. He did this. Three hundred people, dead, because of him. He did this, he did this, he did this. 

He was a monster. A murderer. And he would never be anything more. 

He was in the mountain. He was trying to save his friends, his people. He watched as the mountain men drilled into their bones, taking the bone marrow that would make their own lives easier. Taking something that did not belong to them. Taking something that would cause pain to the people they were stealing it from. They didn't even bother to use the anesthesia Bellamy knew they had.

He heard their screams. The screams of his people. 

He had to save them. He had to. 

He killed the guard. He wrapped his hands around his throat and cut off his air flow, keeping eye contact while he killed him slowly. 

He pushed all feelings away the moment it happened, despite Maya's horrified stare. He had a job to do. He could deal with the memory of watching someone's life fade from their eyes later. 

He stole his clothes, threw his nametag to the floor numbly. He couldn't feel for someone that had attempted to drain him of his blood. He couldn't. 

Everything came rushing back when he talked to the kid with the exact same name printed clearly on his backpack. 

Then he helped pull the handle to end the remaining mountain men's lives. More people. Dead. Because of him. 

Children. Dead. Because of him. 

Then he had Gina. Then Gina was gone. It was his fault. His fault, his fault, his fault. 

Pike came to him. Told him it was his fault. He was right, Pike was right. 

No more people could die. No more. He had to save his people. He had to be the good guy. He had to. 

He was marching into the camp of grounders, gun in hand. 

He killed them. He helped kill them all. All three hundred.

He attempted to save the wounded, but not even that could make him less of a horrible person. Less of a murderer. 

He saved Indra. Saved her, but robbed her of a warrior's death, he later found out. 

Another three hundred people, dead. Another three hundred people, dead because of him. Because he didn't stop it. Didn't stop his own people from shooting people there to protect them. Didn't stop himself. 

He killed people while they slept. Their eyes were closed and he shot them. He shot people who didn't move, couldn't move. He killed them. He killed them, he killed them, he killed them. 

Then Lincoln was dead and god, so many flashes of memory came at him all at once. Flashes of ripping a seat belt apart. Flashes of hitting him with it as hard as he could. Flashes of cutting into Lincoln as his sister banged on the doors, yelling at him to stop, looking at Bellamy as if she didn't even know him. 

But now, now she looked at him like she finally knew, finally understood what he was. 

A monster. 

He always knew it. The day he had gotten his mother killed and his sister locked away he realized. 

He was a monster. And that's all that be would ever be. A monster. A monster, a monster, a monster. 

Bellamy wasn't the good guy in this story. 

(But maybe there were no good guys.)

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaa I hope you liked it!!! I plan to write longer stoof in the future for the 100 but for a first fic I think this was okay? 🥺🥺 
> 
> Pls don't say any spoilers 🥺🥺 I would appreciate the that jdjxjzm


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